Land of Ocarina
by Misery Lotus
Summary: Prince Rivaille was awkward, unfriendly, but unimaginably kind. He's been kidnapped a few times for his status but it's been happening even more lately. There also seems to be another purpose for his existence. Will he get his fairy tale happy ending? Will he live long enough for it? There's no way to tell.
1. Prologue

A long, long time ago, there was a princess named Mikasa. No one could tell what she was thinking. No one could rival her strength in battle. No man was brave enough to ask her for a dance.

Then suddenly, a war broke out. It destroyed Mikasa's kingdom, killed her family, ruined everything she had lived for.

While on her death bed she had only one wish. For her entire life she was misunderstood and feared. Despite that, her heart was forgiving and benevolent. With her last breath, she prayed to God:

'My Lord, please protect the child of this country's new reign. He will be born very soon. His father is not at fault for my ending; I do not blame him. Please, let my tragedy never happen again to anyone in this world.'

And with that, Mikasa died at the young age of fifteen. Rumour has it that her soul fused with a baby who started living at exactly the same time as she had died. This way, the people believed, Mikasa will live on inside that new life, and when the child grows up and has children of their own, Mikasa's heart will be passed onto them as well, the same with their children.

Princess Mikasa will always be with us.

* * *

The name of the country's new prince was Rivaille. His birth was celebrated by all the people of the land. One day, the wizards of the land were summoned to give him their blessings.

"Prince Rivaille will have great happiness in his life." The first wizard said. "He will bring pleasure to the people of this land through his endless kindness and pure heart. His life will be one of wonderful peace."

"Prince Rivaille will be very successful." The second wizard followed. "This land that he will reign over will prosper with harvest and goodness. He will achieve many great things and be respected by all of his people."

It was strange, how the King allowed the wizards to talk of his son reigning the country while he himself has only ruled for a short amount time in this new land that he had conquered. However, he only wanted the best for his son, and for that, he will acquire blessings for him from the whole world.

The third wizard spoke of something different.

"He was predetermined to not be understood by the world, to be lonely for as long as he existed until his cruel, young, tragic end." The whole of the room gasped and chatter broke out; what was this lunatic saying?! How could he speak ill of the prince's future right in front of the King? Did he want to be beheaded?

"However," the third wizard continued, "a prayer for him has been sent to heaven before his birth. He will be rescued to salvation by the last of the princess, and will live an ordinary, fulfilling life along with those who love him the most."

"Are you out of your mind?" The first wizard exclaimed. "Of course the prince will live a royal, plentiful life with the King and Queen. How will his life ever be 'ordinary'?!"

"And what is it of a predetermined tragedy?" The second wizard also spoke up. "How dare you curse the newborn prince! This country doesn't even have a princess that you speak of. Are you damning the future of our new kingdom?"

"I only speak of what I see," said the third wizard, "the future of this kingdom depends not on the predictions of Prince Rivaille, but on the actions of the current king."

The people were in uproar. How could this peasant speak ill of even the King? His rubbish dark divination shall not be endured a moment longer.

He was probably a dark wizard from the previous reign, the people muttered. He must have come here to curse us for the fall of his old shelter! Quick, we have to execute him before any more poisonous nonsense spews out of his mouth!

_Forgive __me, _the King thought as he ordered for his men to take the third wizard to the dungeons. _I_ _cannot allow disorder in this new country._

However, he didn't have to worry long. The next morning, the guard who went to deliver food and water to the third wizard found no trace of his body, only the prisoner rags that have previously been on him, mysteriously orderly on the cold ground, as if the third wizard had simply laid down and disappeared into thin air.


	2. A child with wide eyes

**The first chapters will be kinda the back story to the story I guess? Like how the first few episodes of Shingeki show what the background and stuff etc. Kinda like that? Kinda? xD**

* * *

Prince Rivaille was very cute.

The cute part about him was special. It wasn't the way he huffed at anyone trying to talk to him who weren't his parents, but the invisible blush on his cheeks while he sneered which showed that he was only a shy little boy who had a spiky shell. It was as if he thought, _if you don't like me enough to deal with my outside, you don't deserve to get to my inside. B-but I won't mind if you do or anything..._

Of course he was not. He was only five years old.

Being a prince scarcely allowed him to wander outside the palace, for safety reasons. Shortly after the fall of the previous reign, the remnants of its supporters have formed a cult kind of organisation, with the sole purpose of inducing the current reign as much trouble as possible. Obviously, if they managed to get hold of the national treasure, The Prince, the King would definitely be very troubled. Despite that, the King was overprotective of his child's young mind and did not directly let him know of the country's dangerous side. Although he did say, 'Rivaille, candy from strangers are dirty, so never accept them.'

Like any other day, Rivaille wandered around the castle after his lessons of etiquette, language, and other things a prince should know. Since he was a prince, he was taught many complicated subjects at a young age, but he was also a genius. Taught by the country's best educators, he rivaled students of near-adulthood at the age that normal children have not even started school.

Always dressed immaculately, there was not a speck of dirt on his brilliantly clean clothes. His mother had inserted into his values that he was to be presentable at all times, to never let dust or soil taint his precious skin. He was a prince, after all.

But he was still a child.

Out of natural curiosity Rivaille often wanted to explore the outside world, beyond the gardens and trees and fences. He wanted to see the amazing landmarks describes in books with his own eyes; oceans of salty water, deserts with giant cacti, _penguins_. According to geography and humanities, there were many types of people, with almond shaped eyes so different from his, with skin much darker than his icily pale complexion. Apparently some had adapted to their environment and so changed their outer appearance. Rivaille had no idea that humans were powerful enough to perform such complicated tasks. How did they manage? How did the first person change? Did it suddenly happen, or did it take long, long years and many experiments? The world was a mystery to him. There were still so many books that he had not read. He dreamed of growing taller to reach all the shelves in the magnificent library that he had spent so much time in.

Although, what he was most curious about was the mysterious power that special people had, called 'magic'.

A long time ago, there were many types of magic. It was common and part of everyday life for even ordinary people. However, the only magic at the present time was the ability of wizards, divination. They could see fragments of a person's future, but even wizards were rare these days and few could see enough to make sense of the message.

The day which the three wizards spoke of Prince Rivaille's future was a forbidden subject. He himself had no idea of its happening until one day, a year ago, he heard the conversation of a pair of maids:

_"Did you know, the prince is cursed!" _

_Rivaille's ears perked up. He was moving back to his room after his lessons, musing how the strength of army blades can be improved. Even at a young age, he was already thinking of the country's welfare._

_"Shh! If we're caught talking about this we'll be executed!" Another voice whispered. Rivaille was curious; what were these servants speaking of? Surely, he himself would know if-_

_"One of the guards sneaked into the kitchen for wine yesterday. He spoke me this in return for me not telling anyone that he escaped duty. He said he was guarding the room where the three wizards made foresight for Prince Rivaille four years ago. He said he saw with his own eyes one of the wizards disappearing after informing that the prince will meet a tragic end! One moment he was there, the next he was gone!"_

_"That guard is bluffing. _I_ heard that the wizard was arrested and burst into flame in his cell. The dungeon guards say that his ghost haunts the prison even today!"_

_"But...what about the prince?"_

_"They said that before that man died he cursed Prince Rivaille to die before he even reaches adulthood, at age fifteen!"_

_A large of pair of hands covered Rivaille's small ears. He looked up into the smiling face of a handsome man._

_"Prince Rivaille," the man voiced, "please pretend that you never heard this conversation."_

_"Why, Irvin?" The prince asked. "Is it not your duty to protect me, to let me know of what may threaten my life?"_

_"Yes, it is." Irvin squatted down to face Rivaille. "You have no need to worry. I, as your personal guard, will keep you from all harm. Although what they are speaking of is not worth for your knowledge. They are only speaking absurdities, gossip of the servants which contain no truth. You are safe, Prince Rivaille."_

_Rivaille was about to protest, but Irvin put a finger on his lips to stop him. "The topic that they are speaking of is prohibited. If they were caught, by someone like me especially, the consequences for them will be severe."_

_The prince was silent. Irvin smiled and retracted his hand._

_"Are you threatening me?" Rivaille said quietly, his grey eyes looking intensely into Irvin's._

_His smile unfading, Irvin replied, "Not at all, your majesty._

_"You are just too kind."_

Rivaille had enough common sense in him to not ask anyone about the supposed curse. He understood the message in Irvin's words: he, Rivaille, was not supposed to know of this. Irvin never tried to fool him; he knew that he was smart. However, Rivaille knew that Irvin was smarter.

It didn't matter. He trusted Irvin to protect him, even if it wasn't a materialistic source of harm. Besides, Irvin said it didn't exist, so it probably didn't. Irvin was usually right.

What he really wanted to know about were the other kinds of magic, practical ones, like levitating objects, creating fire out of nowhere. People were made to live in the present, so why look into the future?

Apparently, even transformation magic existed. Apparently, if you forgot the keys to your home, you could transform into an insect and crawl through a gap in the door to enter. There was also creation magic, like fusing the seed of an apple and a pear to harvest a new type of fruit.

Rivaille loved the world. It was beautiful. Everything about it was so interesting, so fascinating. It was as if, even if the people didn't understand him, thought he was a snobbish, immature, arrogant prince, as long as the world accepted him, all was fine.


	3. Our life

The day was particularly sunny. It was summer, the season that little Hanji loved the most.

Hanji was Rivaille's younger sister by a year. She was much different from her prince brother, being loud and chirpy. Everyone adored her, including Rivaille himself. Although he might have liked her much more if she talked less about her imaginary friends.

"Sawney gave me a slice of cake the other day." She chattered walking with Rivaille together to palace library.. "It was very tasty. I kissed his cheek as thanks. But Bean would have gotten jealous, so I kissed him too.

Her short twin pigtails swung around as she almost skipped out of sheer delight. Rivaille wasn't sure what it was for. She was always so happy.

"A princess has to save her kisses for a prince." Rivaille stated nonchalantly as they neared the door to the huge room.

The library was on the lowest floor of a large castle. Rivaille spent a large amount of his time there. Sometimes he would stay in the library for the whole day, until it was time for dinner with his father and mother. It was also the place where he and Hanji received their education. One of the biggest libraries in the country, with so many resources and so much information. It was such a pity how only those who served the reign or were royalty could access it.

"Hmph." Hanji pouted as they stopped. "You always pick on me. It's not fair, ani-ue. You'll never get a prince to kiss you if you're so mean."

"I am a prince. I don't need a prince to kiss me."

Hanji puffed up her cheeks and grabbed the shoulders of her company. She hurriedly planted a kiss on the prince's lips and jumped away, brows furrowed, looking at him pointedly from an equal height.

Ah, yes. They were the same height now, Rivaille thought. He was sure that last month her hair only reached his eyes. She's grown, hasn't she?

He stopped himself. Has Irvin rubbed off on him? Why was he talking like an old man? He was /five/ and she was /four/. Do children of royalty usually age faster for some reason? If so, how come he was still not as tall as Irvin?

"Ani-ue! If you think just because you're a prince, you won't need a prince's kiss, then I'll become a prince to prove you wrong!" Little Hanji shouted at the top of her (was smaller last month) small voice, opening the door to the library (which she could now reach) harshly and squeezing in through the gap before pushing the door shut with her small (used to be smaller) body and leaving Rivaille outside the room.

Rivaille stayed where he was left for a moment. Then, he twisted the doorknob. It wouldn't move. He knocked. There was no response.

Well, it was fine. He only came here for his own leisure. The princess followed him for the same reason. No teacher was going to be waiting on the other side until noon.

It was morning. Ten, to be precise. Tea would be delivered to the library by a servant in an hour. He still had time to do what he pleased.

A gust of wind blew past Rivaille's ear. He turned around. There was no one there in the empty corridor. The draught was from the open window not far away from where he stood.

Suddenly, he thought it would be nice to feel the summer breeze. It would stroke his hair, caress his skin, like a guardian who loves him more than his blood mother does. Black hair freely tossed by the wind; red chiffon scarf around his pale neck, protecting its white sensitivity from insects craving his blood. Why was he wearing a girly bandana? He didn't know. He had been wearing it for as long as he could remember. Maybe it was a piece of cloth from his birth, purpose to catch him from his mother's womb, dyed with his mother's blood. That wasn't even possible. How come new servants always come up with such unrealistic ideas?

His shoes made no noise while he took steps to the window. Their soles were clean and well-made, carefully sewed to the covering parts of the soft footwear. His feet were small and agile. He could already run faster than the other children, from what he has observed through the iron gates of the outside world.

The breeze was cool. The sun must be warm. He was tall enough to climb over the window sill now. Sitting on it, legs dangling like he'd witnessed from the other children the few times he had been outside. They might wave at him, thinking he was just another boy, out with his big brother who had blonde hair for some reason. He wouldn't wave back. If they ever saw him again, they wouldn't, either.

Jumping off, he landed gracefully on grass. He was light and grass was good at survival. That was why he didn't take the long way to a door. He would have, if for his own benefit something has to die.

The sun wasn't warm. It was hot, like the air was hot. Rivaille immediately wanted to go back inside, but the window was higher from the outside. Maybe he could sit by that tree over there. It has good shade.

But the wind reached him again when he arrived at the tree.

It carried a whisper in its wordless grace, commanding him to drift in a certain direction. It drew him out from under the tree before he could sit down, and he could only follow it, helplessly. The wind who was calling him to the barrier separating him from the outside world, the other world.

This would often happen. Something physically pleasing would often attract him to watch through the bars. He did it for only that reason, he told himself. He didn't want to go outside at all, he told himself. He didn't want to wait in line to soar on a swing, nor to rock speedily on a seesaw with another boy, or smoothly roll down a slide, hang on a bar like an agile monkey from the books he had read. He didn't want to be in the crowded dust of the commoners' markets, with children, some running around everywhere, some sitting on their father's neck, some holding their mother's hand.

So he walked to the gate, as if he was a deviant magnet, drawn to iron.

* * *

**Sorry for the lack of things actually happening after a month of no update...xD**


	4. Eren

Rivaille put his small hands on the bars of the metal gate. It was small compared to the main gate, being only one of the many entrances to the palace at the back of the castles. A gate, this gate, on the edge of the palace, connected to the commoners' world. A barrier. A point of inflexion. Fields and gardens of flora separated it from the main of the palace. It was further away than the other back gates, alone, unnoticeable.

There was no one outside. This path was quiet and small, unlike some others which went onto a big road after a hundred meters or two.

If he exited this doorway and turned right three corners, he would be at a commoners' market. There would be gold apples, living chickens, dead fish, green long beans. All at spectacular bargain-able prices. It would be crowded most of the day, but at seven in the morning it would be calm and quiet. Though not cold like the insides of the castle, but peaceful and happy.

Rivaille traced a metal bar with his finger. There was rust again, metallic smelling oxide. Iron and oxygen couldn't stay away from each other. They always found a way to become one. How could there be rust anywhere on the property of the king? But this gate was unimportant. White horses did not come through this gate.

He wanted to clean it, make it sparkle and proud. Let Cinderella find her happy ending, not being overshadowed by her stepsisters or evil stepmother. He wanted to make it clean, pretty, shiny. He wanted to prevent it from corroding, from losing weight, from getting hurt. Why did he feel so close to this metal structure? Was it because he had sneaked out of this place once through this gate? Was it because it was the longest that he had been outside, in the early morning, feeling the cool temperature and the still dim air, the wonderfully relaxing atmosphere of the morning market, the merchant informing the middle-aged woman that the taro weighed so much because of the sticky liquid inside it? He was the prince, he shouldn't find similarities between himself and this unattended piece of steel.

After all, Cinderella...

"Armin!" A voice called. "Where are you?"

Rivaille jumped. He looked behind him, finding only a white moth flying past. Listening more closely he could hear running footsteps coming from the right, on the other side of the gate. He waited, wondering if anyone was going to pass him.

"Agh, where are you?" The yelled impatiently, definitely nearing. It was not the voice of an adult. It was going to be a child.

Rivaille waited for the moment this child would to pass this gate. His heart pounded faster than usual, butterflies formed in his stomach at the thought of meeting a human his own age. Was this person going to see him, to stop and talk and stare. Were they going to ask him where 'Armin' was? Or would they continue running, past the open gate to Rivaille's life, out of his world once again?

Rivaille paused. Once...again...?

And then the child appeared. Rivaille's heartbeat sped up even more upon the first glimpse of his hair. This boy had tanned, sunny skin. His big green eyes were fervent and searching. His brown, wavy hair was mussed and some stuck to his pretty forehead. He was pretty, Rivaille realised. This was the first time he had thought a boy was pretty. This was probably the first real boy that he had seen so close up...not a cousin, nor a governor's son. He was like those children on that playground, so normal, so stunning.

He suddenly stopped as his eyes settled on the gate. His expression was full of babyish wonder, completely unmatched to the sweat on his skin. And then he saw Rivaille.

Rivaille watched as he observed Rivaille. He saw his eyebrows rise up. He felt their gazes connect as two tiny kids looked into each other's eyes as if their mouths were taped and hands were bond. Suddenly there was a rush of something concentrated in his eyes, like a tea bag that was slowly dispersing in hot water being squeezed. It was the colour of green tea from the previous reign. The past kingdom drank a lot of green tea.

His lips started to move.

_Are you living well?_

The wind whispered.

"Hey, who are you?"

What what what what was with that rude way of speaking to the prince?

"Give your own name before asking for someone else's." Rivaille replied coldly.

"What? You little...ugh!" His teeth was gritted, as if he was holding back from saying something. "Fine. I'm Eren Yeager. You?" Eren muttered as he glared at Rivaille.

"Rivaille." The prince returned. If he couldn't even manage a 'what's your name', why would Rivaille reply with more than necessary?

"Oh, ok." His angry expression suddenly disappeared. Like he fell asleep. Rivaille appreciated this blank face. Even though it only lasted two seconds before he seemed to remember what he was feeling.

"Uh, have you seen a kid around here? His name is Armin. He's my best friend." Rivaille noticed the way his voice became much friendlier as the name was mentioned.

"What does he look like?" Still, the first thing you see on a person isn't his name. Nor is it his status as Eren Yeager's best friend.

"He's got blonde hair. It's kind of long." He gestured around his jaw. "His eyes are really blue. He's skinny as well." There he stopped himself. As if to seem cool, to not reveal things about himself before the other party 'gives his own'. Rivaille could tell. He looked like he had a lot more words in his mouth.

Oh well. It wasn't as if this boy knew he was the first commoner's child Rivaille had seen since a long time ago. He must have been a commoner's child. His clothes were simple and ordinary. He wore a brown sleeveless top and darker shorts with sandals. His collar was round and wide, unlike the intricately styled silk over Rivaille's neck. Sophisticated. Graceful. Why might a child know such big words?

"I haven't seen anyone like that." He replied, nonchalant.

The boy frowned, looking at Rivaille as if he was analysing his way through a lie. What a stupid kid.

"Fine. Bye, Rivaille." He grumbled, still looking at him expectantly for some reason.

"Bye." Rivaille said, not bothering with anything else.

Anger lighted his face again. "You should at least say my name! Isn't that good manners?"

Rivaille thought he had a pretty good point. Not like he was in any place to lecture him, but Rivaille himself didn't want to fall in the same category as this kid.

"Eren Yeager."

He _felt_ the shiver that went through Eren at that moment go through himself. The wind was whispering again. The wind was whispering from Eren. The air was coming from Eren. The nitrogen, hydrogen, the noble gases. The oxygen. Eren was. Eren was.

He was being chemically attacked. The rust on the iron was the result of that. The place where he will touch will rust. Then the rust will be cleaned and the iron will reform, like a living thing. Long exposure to moist air will cause iron to rust, to become tender and brittle. Then the rust will be cleaned and the iron beneath will be new. It won't reform. It will be new. It will lose something, and then it will be new. Then it will gain something to be protected, and it will not rust again, will not lose corrode, lose weight, get hurt. Or it can live forever as iron oxide, as rust. Or it can have both.

Eren flinched and let out an 'ow'. He reached behind his head and rubbed at it with a groan. A small rock had been thrown at him. He spun around rapidly, his expression changed to one of predator's adrenaline. He growled.

"COME OUT!" He exclaimed and ran away the direction he'd came from.

Rivaille stood there for a while, thoughtfully looking at the white moth on top of the iron gate take off.


End file.
